Chapter 54

“Woo,” Ryan replies. He dials a number and puts the phone to his ear. “You take my breath away,” he admits.

When Dante laughs, Ryan turns his attention to the phone. “Hey Mom! No, not you.”

“Tell her I said hi,” Dante whispers, easing Ryan’s chair through the turnstile and passed the ticket booth. The girl behind the counter waves at them, a few kids call out Dante’s name—everywhere he looks, someone’s smiling or waving, congratulating him, telling him how great he was out there. His own grin grows strained, his whole body begging to be left alone.

In the chair in front of him, Ryan tells his mother that they’re finished here. “He won the five hundred,” he’s saying, smiling up at Dante. He must see something in his face, exhaustion or weariness, because he reaches back and pats Dante’s hand where it grips the handlebar. “Yeah, we’re ready.”

At the glass doors leading outside, Dante stops the wheelchair and hits the automatic release button nearby. “Tell her—” he starts.